<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Nothing is As it Has Been (and I Miss Your Face Like Hell) by itsreallylaterightnow</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646631">Nothing is As it Has Been (and I Miss Your Face Like Hell)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsreallylaterightnow/pseuds/itsreallylaterightnow'>itsreallylaterightnow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ironman, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief, Hugs, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt with a little comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Crying, Sad Peter Parker, Sad Tony Stark, Tears, Time Travel, basically the author grieving through fanfiction, saying goodbye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:47:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsreallylaterightnow/pseuds/itsreallylaterightnow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete is grieving. And he just needed to say goodbye. Needed the chance to say goodbye. When he gets the oppurtunity, of course he won't pass it up. </p><p>or</p><p>The author is grieving and just really needed to live vicariously through a fic so she wrote this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; May Parker, Tony Stark &amp; Peter Parker, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nothing is As it Has Been (and I Miss Your Face Like Hell)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>When I say that I was not expecting to write almost 3,000 words of pure angst in the span of an hour tonight... let’s just say I was uniquely inspired. I wrote this based off of a lot of grief. My grandfather passed away four years ago, and I always think about what I would say to him if I could go back. So this is pure author’s indulgence and it was very healing to write it, so if it helps you in any way then it was worth it. There are a few did-bits of dialogue in there straight from conversations with my grandfather, and let me say that writing this work had me sobbing, so there’s your fair warning. Love you all tons.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If you asked Peter why he did it, he really wouldn’t have had much of an answer for you. He could have told you how watching Tony die in front of him – hearing as his father figure’s heart slowly became too weak, too overrun with radiation to beat, that it had quit altogether had ripped Peter’s heart straight from his body. He could have told you about the weight. The weight of the grief that had been planted on his chest, heavier than any building that could have been dropped on him. The baggage that he had been carrying around with him in the nine months since he had watched Tony’s first arc reactor drift out into the lake. The way that his entire body felt like a magnet – being pulled straight to earth’s core and no matter how much he tried to stand, to live his life as Peter Parker, he could never seem to get off the ground. He could talk about the nightmares. The bad ones. Waking up certain that he was turning to dust. Rubbing his hands together vigorously to make sure they weren’t leaving him. How he had bought a weighted blanket so he could be sure he wouldn’t float away. Then there were the terrible dreams. The dreams where Tony was back. Where he was smiling at Peter, and they were in the lab together laughing at some stupid science pun that no one else would understand. And it was wonderful. But it was the worst, because then Peter would wake up. And he would – for a split second – just smile about the memory. And then, like a train crashing into him, he would remember. The snap. Blinding lights. Losing someone he had just gotten back to. Red eyes and charred skin. The numbness. The weight. And it would be like losing him all over again. He could have told you all of these things. </p><p>But he would have told you something different. A story of impulse control. How, when May had told him that Pepper had invited the two of them over for a lunch, saying she had something to give Peter – that she wanted to see him – he had almost backed out. Because the idea of seeing that lake, knowing the arc reactor was sitting at the bottom of it, just being in the presence of the place where Mr. Stark’s funeral was going to be was too much for him. But he couldn’t say no.</p><p>So he had gone. When they pulled up to the house, Peter had avoided looking at the lake at all costs. Morgan had hugged him, and Pepper had smiled, drawing him into a warm embrace. And he had almost broken right then, because she almost smelled like him. He could smell the motor oil and coffee, with a bit more vanilla to it. But it was almost his smell. The smell he had come to acquaint with acceptance, and care. Jokes and a mentorship. Building and love. He hated being so sensitive to smell. Because people have such specific ones. And when someone was gone, how could you ever get that smell again? No matter how much you want it, how hard you try to pinpoint it or recreate it, you will never get that smell back. And he had thought about it over and over again. He had gripped the shirt of Tony’s that he had taken from the lake house, breathing in the scent, just being in the scent. Every night until slowly, like the memories he held so tightly, it had faded away. The smell had become the same smell of all of Peter’s shirts. No more Tony. No more motor oil, no more coffee. It was pencil led and apple juice. And Peter had wept when he realized it. He had refused to wash the shirt, hoping against all odds that he was wrong. </p><p>They had lunch, the four of them. Peter had looked around the house, taking it in. He had tried to imagine that Mr. Stark would just come walking around the corner, making some joke about why Peter looked two seconds away for collapsing in tears. Tony had always been able to tell when he was about to lose it. And Peter had been so proud of himself for how composed he had been. And then Pepper had handed it to him. The fake picture Mr. Stark had made him take for the internship. He had a goofy grin on his face, and Tony had held up a peace sign behind his head as he laughed. Pepper had handed it to him, saying that she knew that Tony would have wanted him to have it. Saying that she and Morgan were going to be moving back into the city and when she had gone through Tony’s things, she had found it and knew she should give it to Peter. When she had handed it across the table, the second Peter saw the arm that Tony had had around him, he pushed his chair back swiftly, the wood creaking on the ground. </p><p>“Please excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He had said, voice thick as though he had just swallowed honey. He walked down a hall, taking the last door on the left, just needing to cry and get it out of the way but not being willing to do it in front of everyone. He had walked through the door, one hand over his eyes as he had wept. He closed the cedar door behind him with a bang, hopefully discouraging anyone from coming in after him. </p><p>Peter collapsed to the concrete floor, his hand sliding down the table, gripping onto something soft as he drug it with him. He blinked through the tears, looking down at the black material of an AC/DC shirt. Confusion raced through his brain as he looked around, his heart sputtered. He was in a lab. Well, a garage turned into a lab. He began to weep harder. Tony’s lab. The thing he missed most. Spending hours, the minutes melting into one another as the sun faded away, listening to the music that Mr. Stark would sing along to as they worked in companionable silence. He gripped the shirt in shaking hands, pulling it to his nose without hesitation, and he breathed in. </p><p>A guttural sound came from him as the smell hit him. Peter’s body folded in half, his face touching the floor as he gripped the shirt with reckless abandon. Because that was it. The smell he had never been sure he would get back. He took breath after breath. Motor oil and coffee and aftershave… and burgers… and the tiniest hint of Pepper’s vanilla and Morgan’s playdough and Peter’s web-fluid and all of it mixed together perfectly to create Tony. Tony. </p><p>Peter would have told you that he wasn’t sure how long he had laid on the floor. Wasn’t sure when he had seen it. </p><p>Because he had heard stories of the time travel. Stories of the ugly suits and the wrist bands and Pym particles over the giant quantum realm stand. So when he had looked up and saw it – his heart had stopped beating altogether. And Peter was moving faster than he had ever moved, forgetting the T-shirt and stepping forward to the workbench on the other side of the room. Because there was the white suit, and two Pym particles, and the wrist band and what looked to be a single-person quantum realm stand. Peter hadn’t even had to think. This is where he would have told you that he had no impulse control. With a deep breath, he tried to think. He needed to see his Tony, but despite the grief that had overtaken him when Mr. Stark had snapped, he wouldn’t risk losing everyone again, couldn’t do that. So he set the date for a year after the snap. He set it the location for this lab. And without another breath, he had hit the button. </p><p>Lights, and colors, and strange feelings had overwhelmed him, and when he’d landed it had been straight on his hands and knees. Peter took a shuddering breath and looked around him. He was in the lab, Tony’s lab. It was messier. Newer. There were scattered papers, and Pepper’s rescue suit, and old coffee cups, and the room was a mess. It was dark, and Peter blinked as he looked around, his hand running over a still-hot coffee mug. He was looking around when he heard it. The footsteps. </p><p>The footsteps that he could have told apart from anyone. The man who walked heavy. His steps exactly 1.5 seconds apart from one another. The way his left foot landed heavier than his right foot due to a barely perceptible limp. Peter just stared – flabbergasted as the man had opened the door. </p><p>And the both of them were staring at ghosts. Peter felt his heartbeat everywhere. Pounding so loud that he couldn’t make sense of anything other than Tony. Standing there. His face ashen as he mindlessly shut the door. </p><p>“Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice was barely a whisper as he gripped the table next to him for support. </p><p>“Who the hell are you?” The man had asked, his face turning into hard lines.</p><p>“It’s me – well… kind of me. I mean it’s me-me but from the future.” Tony blinked hard, taking a small step forward. </p><p>“The future?” </p><p>“Yes, sir. Well, you see- it’s a long story that I really, really don’t want to talk about, but I just… I needed to see you.” Peter’s lip began to quiver as he took a shaky step forward. “I really needed to see you.” Then he was falling to his knees, and suddenly Tony was there. Hands on Peter’s arms, and pulling him into his chest, and Peter was shaking and how could one person cry so much in one day. He felt hot tears coming from Tony too. As the pair held the one thing they didn’t have so tightly. Gripping as though the other would fall through the floor. </p><p>Peter couldn’t have told you how long he breathed in the scent, felt the man’s beard on his neck, or rough hands rubbing circles on his back before he leaned back. Staring at Tony’s red-rimmed eyes. </p><p>The older man took a deep breath. “Peter. I need you to answer a few questions for me.” Peter just sniffled and nodded. “You said you’re from the future, and that you needed to see me… and well – you don’t have to be a genius to figure out that that means that I’m not around anymore.” Peter took a shaky breath and gave a single nod. Tony looked up at the ceiling, biting his lip and nodding. “Okay, just. Last thing, okay? Because I can tell you don’t want to talk about it, and I won’t push but… did we do it? Did we win?” </p><p>Peter wanted to say that no. In no world did winning equal losing Mr. Stark. Wanted to say that he had screamed about the price. That it was too high. That they shouldn’t have had to lose him in order to win everyone back. That he deserved a second chance. That Peter had really wanted Mr. Stark to grow older and watch him grow up. Watch him graduate high school and college and get married and have kids. That he had never expected it to end so soon. That he couldn’t have possibly imagined that the universe could be so cruel. But he nodded. </p><p>“We won. You got everyone back.” And Tony had nodded again, setting his jaw tightly.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>There was a lull, for a second. Neither of them knowing what to do. Peter cleared his throat, trying to speak past the lump in it.</p><p>“I really missed you. And I didn’t get to say goodbye and I just kept thinking that my biggest regret with my dad and mom and Ben was that I had never gotten to have a proper goodbye and I just couldn’t do it again. And I never even got to say that I love you, or that you’re like my dad, and that all I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me and that you meant so much to me, and I just couldn’t handle not ever getting to tell you that.” Peter said as he wept. He couldn’t have held back the tears if he had wanted to.</p><p>“Pete- Peter, look at me, kid.” And just hearing that nickname was enough to do him in again, but he did. He looked up. “I have never been prouder of someone in my life. I love you, so much. You are the best of us. I mean it. Come here.” And he was being held again. </p><p>And they stayed there. Holding one another. Different timelines – cursed to be unable to stay with one another. They sat until their legs went numb, and Peter had followed suit as Tony stood. His mentor had showed him around the room, talking about all the ideas of getting them back. He had never made a move to ask Peter how they did it. Seemingly knowing that he shouldn’t have that information. And there had been science jokes, and long looks. Laughter and silent tears as Peter had watched the sun go down. He had known that his time with Tony was running out. Known that he had to head home eventually. </p><p>And he had been dreading every second of it when he had seen the look in Tony’s eyes. </p><p>“Is it time?” He had whispered quietly, not trusting his voice. Tony gave a slight nod. “I don’t think I’m strong enough.” Peter said, stepping forward. </p><p>“Me either.” </p><p>“How do I do it? Every day – waking up is like trying to swim to the bottom of the ocean. The pressure it… it gets worse. And everyone says it gets better but I don’t see it. Because I still feel it. With Ben and my parents. and you. And I don’t know how to swim down.” </p><p>“You just… can’t give up. Don’t give up Peter. Because believe it or not, we will see each other again.” And Peter wanted to scream that this was his last Pym particle. That he could never see Tony again, and how on earth was that fair, but he had just collapsed forward, falling into the man’s chest. Fingers curling around his shirt as Ton ran his fingers through Peter’s hair.</p><p>“I love you, kid.” Between sobs Peter spoke.</p><p>“I love you more.” He felt Tony give an unbelieving laugh. </p><p>“Oh really? You love me more? Well, I love you more than a monkey loves a banana, so? How about that?” Peter scoffed, leaning back. </p><p>“I love you to infinity.” He said, because Tony would never beat that. </p><p>But in Tony fashion, of course he could. </p><p>“I love you to infinity and back again.” </p><p>There was that silence again. Two people running out of time. Needing more of it. </p><p>“I don’t think I can press the button. I don’t think I can press the fucking button.” Peter said, staring at his hand helplessly. </p><p>“Then we will do it together.” Peter nodded, feeling as though he were suffocating as he fell forward. </p><p>Tony’s hand closed on his. Peter wanted to fight him. To stay here. </p><p>“Don’t give up Peter. I love you.” He couldn’t breathe. His chest screaming that this wasn’t fair. That he hadn’t had long enough. </p><p>“I love you too.” And with a final grip, knowing it would be the last before he had to walk away, the gruff hand – riddled with callouses and use, grease filling every line – squeezed down on the button and Peter’s world went black again. </p><p>But this time, despite the ache. Despite the overwhelming grief, at least he had gotten to say goodbye</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>